


Timing

by Loremaiden



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-12 06:42:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2099460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loremaiden/pseuds/Loremaiden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't make jokes around Mr. Holmes during a case on a <i>good</i> day.  And today is most certainly not a good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timing

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to JWP Amnesty Prompt #3 (No Joke) on Watson's Woes. Sequel to [Repeating Signal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2063865%22).
> 
> No Joke: Incorporate something that should be funny, but isn't.

My partner Bob has a...healthy sense of humor. He has to, being a bobby named Bob and all. And he don't make cracks to be cruel; it's just that you need a little laugh to survive the job sometimes.

But there's a time and a place for everything, and cracking wise near Mr. Holmes looking as pale and frightened as he did was most certainly not one of Bob's brighter ideas.

Mr. Holmes, Gregson and some of the sturdier lads were picking through the rubble while my partner and I held the lanterns. It was a bad sight, and I doubted anyone could've survived that collapse, but I was smart and kept my mouth shut.

Bob wasn't smart.

I don't even remember the full joke—he started something about Dr. Watson's performance in the raid “bringing the house down,” but he stopped mid-sentence when he saw the glare in Mr. Holmes' eyes.

If looks could kill, I would have had to arrest Mr. Holmes for murder that night. Even Gregson, who can normally banter like the best of 'em, looked ready to swing a punch.

Bob just stared at Mr. Holmes like a deer in front of a wolf. He was standing stock-still like Holmes would pounce on him if he dared make a move. You could have heard a pin drop in the silence.

That's when we heard the tapping.

Holmes sprang into action, Bob completely forgotten. While the others rushed to the source of the noise, I grabbed Bob by the arm.

“Come along, lad,” I hissed as I dragged him away before Gregson could reassign Bob's beat to the heart of Whitechapel. “We have to work on your comedic timing.”


End file.
